Iceland 2014 - Part 2

Our Trip Summary

26 September – Laugarvatn
27 September – Borgarnes
28 September – Snæfellsnæs (southern part)
29 September – Grundarfjörður
30 September – Berufjarðarvatn
1 October – Patreksfjörður
2 October – Heydalur
3 October – Heydalur
4 October – Reykholt
5 October – Skógar
6 October – Hveragerði
7 October – Keflavik

 

It is fair to say that we had seen a lot of waterfalls during our trip and we were starting to pass by some of them without stopping. Dynjandi is not one that you can pass by! Many of the waterfalls that we had seen were what I would describe as a single stream waterfall. However, Dynjandi seems to fan out over the rocks and is an immense curtain covering the side of the mountain. Coralyn had walked ahead along a path while I was taking photos of a smaller section of the waterfall. When I looked up, there she was, dwarfed by the waterfall and it appeared that in any moment she would be consumed by it.

 

We were driving, up, up and up some more into a high mountain pass and although Iceland had just been through summer, in the distance patches of snow started to appear on the slopes. And with that an idea started to take shape, an idea that was not going to go away – I wanted to touch that snow, I wanted to taste some of that pure Icelandic water. So when I caught sight of some snow / ice next to a waterfall relatively close to the road, I had to stop. With a bounce in my step I was off, rock hopping my way up to the waterfall and I’m glad to say when I arrived I was not disappointed. The melting snow had formed amazing patterns and the colour beaming through the ice, that blue that you seem to just yearn for. The taste… well how do you describe pure?

 

We had found a farm stay off the main road where we had an incredible night’s stay. On the morning of our planned departure, we awoke to a white glow outside. Rather intrigued I pulled the curtain aside and to my amazement as far as I could see was covered in powdery snow. Still optimistic that our journey would continue we packed, had our breakfast and jumped into the car. After 3 failed attempts to get up the driveway, I was happy to concede defeat and acknowledge that the driveway was beyond my skill. So I handed the car over to the owner of the farm and, after one attempt, he declared that we were simply not going anywhere. I must confess that I was rather happy that he had not been able to get up the driveway because I really did not want to be driving on the snow. I was also pleased to be staying another night at this beautiful farm, and what unfolded were some of my fondest memories in Iceland. After easing the car back in front of the cabins, we had a closer look at the tyres and realised that much of the problem was due to the fact there was little tread left on the tyres – something that would stick in my mind for the rest of the trip every time the road conditions were a bit questionable.

My feet are stinging; I hope that they will soon go numb to give me some relief. I am surrounded by snow and am bare foot wading through a creek. Why on earth would I be doing this?? Fair question. Well on the other side of the creek and up the side of a hill is a natural hot pot and one of the items on my bucket list is to have a hot spring in the snow, I feel the excitement rising. Stepping on a sharp uneven rock sends a jar up my leg jolting me back to the task at hand. I focus and push through the stream and stumble onto the far bank. Looking ahead, I realise that I am only half way and I have the decision of putting on my shoes with wet feet or braving it further, bare foot through the snow. Pins and needles pierce through my feet as I start to question my decision to high tail it through the snow – but I am committed now. I reach the simple hut a short distance from the hot pot and frantically peel layer after layer off, my feet are burning now. Finally I am able to jump into the hot embracing water and pause for a moment while the heat seeps deep into my body. I slowly reposition myself in the hot pot, directly above where the hot water is flowing from the earth deep below. After a few moments of serenity, gentle white flakes begin to fall from the sky and before long the countryside is whited out with snow. I close my eyes, look to the heavens and as the subtle snowflakes delicately land on my face as if to caress it, I mentally tick one more item off my bucket list.

  

‘Would you like to come to a friend’s farm to help bring in the sheep?’ Ummm well yes and actually heck yes!! ‘Ok, get your warm gear on and we leave in 10 minutes’. As we rolled into the farm, to say that I was excited would be an understatement. As we met the farmers, to say I was exhilarated would be an understatement. As the sheep filed their way past me down to the barn, to say I was engrossed would be an understatement. As I was watching the dog dash off into the snow to round up a stray, to say I was elated would be an understatement. I had walked out into the snow covered fields of Iceland and called in the sheep; I am not sure that I would be able to find words that are not an understatement.

 

Artic Fox

Black and white, there simply cannot be more contrast. She bounds across the pure white snow her black coat draws you to her. She bounds close and then darts into the distance. Her youthful excitement is infectious. She is wild yet comes right to me and for some moments we exchange the warmth and tenderness of a touch. I hold my breath for I am afraid if I exhale that she may vanish from this moment.

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

The herd twitch and stir as I approach. They are unsure of my intentions. Slowly and deliberately I approach them, trying to show that I simply want to spend time with them. The herd gather as I enter their ranks, curious of this stranger now among them. I kneel and attempt submission. The herd surround me and accept me into their fold, I feel connected, and I feel a sense of belonging.

 

 

 

 

Nothing, nothing and more nothing. The vast expanse of white, the remoteness: gazing out taking in the scene I realise that beauty can take many forms. In the distance… is it a mirage… do my eyes deceive me…? As we draw closer the cabin slowly takes shape and seems to grow from the nothingness. Truly this must be a special place to stay, removed from everything and all; I can only imagine the space one’s mind would have to contemplate things.

 

Watching the horses from a distance, the landscape ever expanding beyond them, the rolling hills the vastness; there is something so ancestral about it.

  

 

  

For the main, our little car did really well. After all we liked to travel the less trodden routes, which by their nature, mean challenging roads. But none were more challenging, both for the car and my nerves(!), then the mountain pass late in our trip. It had snowed a few days earlier but then we had clear skies and sunshine, followed by cold nights, which for those who are initiated would know means ice. As we set out that day, I was particularly stressed as I had not driven in those conditions before and, as we had found out earlier in the trip, our tyres were less then optimal. Coralyne, as is her nature, was carefree – kicking back and relaxing in the passenger seat.

Slowly we climbed and as we did, more and more we were getting wheel spin and slipping on the gravel track. As we navigated a small rise I bring the car to a stop at the crest and take a deep breathe; ahead is the confronting sight of a long constant rise. I look to Coralyne and we weight up the options and decide to press on, however I really am not confident. With trepidation I get some speed up, try to keep the revs high and constant, and tackle the hill. Towards the top we start to slip and slide; not being certain that I can keep the car on the track, I have no choice but to stop. Now the dilemma, we are about 600m up a single lane track covered in ice with no way to turn around and I know if I try to reverse I will end up off the track in the deep gutters that run either side of the track – in short we are stuck.

The only solution in this remote corner of Iceland (?); we both find a rock and start to smash the ice in the tyre tracks heading up the hill. After about half an hour of exertion, we are ready to try, struggling for grip the engine revs and the wheels are spinning but slowly we inch up the hill. The last section has the subtlest increase in incline but it is more than enough to double the challenge. Finally the front wheels reach the top of the hill and our little car once again is on the flat, I think that is the first time I was able to breathe again.

My relative calm lasted for about 15 minutes until before us stood an even larger hill. I really felt we had no chance but at the same time I really did not want to have to turn back because we would be facing the same issues that we had just navigated through. So… we set off and this time we only get three quarters of the way up before we had to stop. Looking at the extent of track in front of us, I felt that we had at least 2 hours of ice smashing, if indeed it would work at all. But we had no choice so we started. After a little while, we heard an engine in the distance and over the rise a 4wd emerged. Without even missing a beat, they turn around in front of us and back up towards our car with such ease. Within moments, we were hooked up and at the top of the hill. Thanking the locals profusely, we were once again on our way, and I am glad to say after about 30 minutes out of the ice and starting our decent.

 

 

 

Rocks that were liquid; flowing over the earth: something that I always find a little difficult to comprehend. But when you see and touch the ancient flow lines forever preserved in the rocks, you can begin to piece together the ancient tomorrow.

 

 

Waves crash in, the water rushes around my ankles and I am completely mesmerised. We are on a black beach and the white wash of the waves are creating a play of light and shadow. The shapes, the patterns ever changing, advancing, receding; it is as if the battle between night and day is being playing out before me every time a wave crashes in.

 

 

 

 

Night has fallen, outside the wind is blowing and the temperature has dropped. I tentatively step outside and look up. Above the night sky is clear of clouds and the stairs look down upon me. I return to the warmth of the house but start to layer up. Tonight I will once again search for the aura borealis, hoping to again see the dancing lights in the night sky. Many of our nights in Iceland had been cloudy but we had been lucky enough to see this spectacle earlier in our trip. We had driven out of the village, parked next to a fjord, and waited. As if anticipating our wish, the clouds opened up allowing us to gaze into the heavens. At first we thought our eyes were playing tricks on us, but sure enough the ebb and flow of the waves in the sky graced us with their mystery.

So despite the cold that is now awaiting me outside, I zip up the jacket which is my final layer for tonight’s adventure, which I am experiencing alone. As I drive out of the village to gain some distance between me and the few village lights, my single focus is finding the aura borealis. I pull onto a dirt track and head towards the carpark of a waterfall that we had visited during the day – I had made a mental note during our visit, if the night was clear I would return. So now I lie back on the bonnet of the car and look to the clear sky and wait. After about half an hour, the cold is slowly starting to penetrate and I question whether the lights will be appearing tonight. I contemplate leaving but take a moment to look at the waterfall. In my singular focus for the aura borealis, I had not taken the time to admire the waterfall, and now that I have, in that moment I see the beauty that has been waiting so patiently to be discovered.

I am at the base of the waterfall and the cascading water is a brilliant silver lit by the moon with a curtain of stairs in the background. My search for the aura borealis has revealed something quite unexpected and I decide to explore this waterfall by night. The climb to the top is very welcome as the physical exertion chases the cold away that had found its way through my layers. At the top my breathe is taken for a moment: before me the waterfall falls into the blackness, the silver disappearing into the depths; a mist fights its way back out of the darkness and escapes towards the moonlight. Across the waterfall the moonlight reveals the rolling pastures and solitary farm house in the distance. In front of me, the wide ocean opens out, the moon imprinting a pathway on the dark water. How fortunate I was that my desire to see the aura borealis did not cause me to be so singularly focused that I missed the majesty of the waterfall.

 

 

Yes we had experienced extreme wind in Iceland previously in our trip. We had the car door ripped from our grip, we had pebbles become projectiles and we had sat in the car while it shook from the buffeting wind. But today was a wind like no other, today the winds had reversed the waterfalls and were sending them uphill!!

  

The wind was blowing hard and the rain coming down on and off. The weather was not particularly pleasant and certainly did not ignite any great desire to hop out of the car and start a hike. Yet here we found ourselves at the end of a track looking up a valley that was jammed between two mountains. In fact, we were not even sure if we were in the right place, all we knew was that a swimming pool had been built deep in the mountains, and was fed by hot spring water.

Our sense of adventure soon overtook our lack of enthusiasm for the cold outside and we stepped out from the shelter of the car to start our trek into the mountains. It was difficult and uncomfortable, no doubt about it and we had to push ourselves hard to continue, hoping that as we came around each rocky bend that we would see the pool, but each time: nothing. The thought started to take shape that it was time to turn around, that we were not going to make it, but it was if the valley was calling us to continue. Thankfully it was only a short time later that our stubbornness prevailed and as we rounded a rocky outcrop we saw it. A pool built into the side of a mountain, a rocky cliff towering on one side and a stream flowing below on the other side. In the distance, waterfalls completed the stunning picture. To top it off the water was hot enough to swim, by far one of the most amazing pools I have had the pleasure to swim in!

 

 

A magical country: each mountain, each cave, each gorge, each lake, each waterfall, each rock, each river has its own legend with a troll, a fairy, a giant, a spirit, an elf... here people live with the invisible beings!